God's Casket
by Lawrence Vivisected
Summary: Zero, too, would do all in his power to not lose anyone else in this war. SuzaLulu. Rating may go up.
1. Eye i

**Title:**  God's Casket

**Pairing(s):**  SuzakuxLelouch, LelouchxSuzaku, ZeroxSuzaku, etc.

**Rating: **PG. May go up in the future.

**Disclaimer:**  I do not own Code Geass.  But if I did, Lulu and Suzie would do it once every episode, I promise you this.

**Summary:  **Zero, too, would do all in his power to not lose anyone else in this war.

**Other:  **Spoilery, what with it being set in R2, around episodes 3, 4, or 5.

**Chapter:  **01—Eye (i)

Summer.  That was what Lelouch was like—hazy, cicada-bleating summer.  Ephemeral and shining, blink too fast and it would be gone.  Suzaku would miss it, long for the days marked by its shine and wine-red sunsets:  but there was no doubt he would miss Lelouch even more.

Suzaku was with him now, standing apart from him, but not so far that he couldn't see the clear profile, set against the glaring, fat moon, of the boy whose own complexion was moon-bright (_brilliantly white, he could almost blend in with the open eye hanging strangely above them, disappear and vanish and it wouldn't be too surprising because Lelouch was so ethereal it was almost natural that he should pull such a trick off_).  Suzaku was also not so far that he could not see those sunsets in his eyes, glowing like the blood on the fields they had crossed all those years ago.  He was not so far that he failed to smell the scent of shampoo (_raspberries?_) lingering in his midnight hair, fluttering a little with each autumn breeze.

_Even his hair_, Suzaku realized, _blends and camouflages so well._

Lelouch, it seemed, always had something to hide from and behind, whether it be his lineage as a Britannian prince or the devil's mask and cowl.  And it seemed that is was Lelouch Lamperouge who, like summer, reminded Suzaku of fields thick with death.

Lelouch, sweet and horrible Lelouch, who leaned carelessly over the balcony (_not too far, step back, you might fall and then what will happen to me, you selfish, heartless bastard?_) did not look at Suzaku as he spoke carefully.

"I feel as if you're…" Lelouch searched for the words, tasting them, swallowing the bitter ones.  "I feel as if you've been withdrawing from me."

Suzaku could not help but withdraw, could not help but refuse to meet Lelouch's eyes—the left one especially, the one that had robbed many of heartbeats and breath.  Suzaku forced himself to look, if only to be reminded that no, there was no hot, bleeding eye.  Not anymore.

Lelouch was looking at him now, expectantly.  "Did I say something to offend you…before the Black Rebel--?" 

Suzaku replied quicker than he meant to.  "No.  No, it's the war, Lelouch.  It…"

The ex-prince turned, hooking his arms behind the top of the railing.  "Euphemia," he stated firmly.  "You loved her, didn't you?"

Yes.

_But maybe, just maybe not as much as…_

"I'm sorry," Lelouch whispered, head drooping low, eyes downcast and hidden by his bottomless pit-black hair:  the image and icon of sadness.  Suzaku restrained the foaming, bubbling fury in inside his throat and only swallowed.

It could never be the way it was back then, both of them shrieking with the glass happiness children frothed in.  Because even if Lelouch did not know, his brain warped by confabulation, Suzaku knew, knew that Lelouch, sweet Lelouch, had been sick—sick with the darkness known as Zero.

Perhaps…perhaps even as children, Zero had been inside of him, using his body heat as incubation and only hatched when that green-haired woman had touched him.

_"I swear it, Suzaku.  By any means, I _will_ destroy Britannia."_

Then this Lelouch, the one by the railing, stretched his fingers toward him, to move his hand toward Suzaku's shoulder.  The Eleven-turned-honorary Britannian froze:  in his mind he saw the dandelion, its buttery, feathery head nodding at him in mock regality, the hand that had once clasped and offered it soaring towards him in slow motion.

_"Dearest Knight, please take this favor…"_

Lelouch laid his hand there lightly, as if he, too, questioned the sincerity of close contact.

_Are you or aren't you…?_

"I understand if you can't grow close to anyone for some time."

_…Zero?_

"Still.  It's me, okay?  Me, Lelouch.  I'm here.  You can tell me what's the matter, instead of distancing yourself.  It's like back when you first came here, when you didn't want to reveal your relation to me in front of the others."  Hesitantly, his fingers twitched, and Suzaku felt the grip tighten.

Suzaku felt his heart fall.

Me, Lelouch.  Me, Lelouch.  Me, Lelouch.

Me, Zero; creator and destroyer of worlds.

_No, Lelouch, it's not you, _he thought, and forced himself to smile.  _It's never going to be _just_ you.  It never can be.  Never again._

"I know," he heard himself say.  "I didn't think I was being so standoffish.  Sorry."

Lelouch smiled, tilted his head to the side so his hair flickered prettily over his eyes.  He did this because he knew such an act was endearing and it was all to throw Suzaku off of his trail because Zero would never lower himself to act so sweetly to a terrible enemy and so…

He and Lelouch made idle chatter, but Suzaku paid no mind.  He laughed with the vessel that had housed the King of Elevens about Milly's silly festivals, Rival's hopeless crush on her, Arthur's penchant for biting, but all he could think of was how much disgust he could feel for one individual.

…And, simultaneously, boundless affection.  Even if he saw Zero (_black hearted, evil murderer_) standing there next to him on the balcony, that cheery laugh masking the sneer he _knew_ was there, he saw Lelouch—handsome Lelouch, beautiful Lelouch, clever Lelouch—whose body swayed in exhaustion, whose hips (_lightly,  painfully_) grazed Suzaku's own with each tired sway, whose eyes glimmered in mauve glory.

Lovely Lelouch.

They were about to say their goodbyes, but Suzaku spied the troubled expression on Lelouch's face.

"What?"  Suzaku didn't mean to whisper and didn't exactly know why he whispering because he and Lelouch (_sweet Lelouch who had smashed his heart with the sledgehammer he called Justice_) were all alone in the world.

"I think…I've been getting this weird feeling lately.  Like someone's watching me, particularly at night," Lelouch said stiffly.  He shifted, seemingly embarrassed at his own vulnerability.

_The surveillance team,_ Suzaku mentally dismissed.  _I should tell them to use extra caution when trailing him._

"I've woken up before and seen this figure standing over me, all in black.  A great, hulking shadow."

Suzaku's gaze hardened.  _What…?_

"Never mind," Lelouch said quickly, seeing Suzaku perturbed.  "No, it's nothing.  A nightmare, a waking dream, probably."

A hulking shadow with a long, flapping cape:  curved at the ends, the wings of a demon?

"Ah.  I didn't mean to dump all of my problems on you.  You've got enough to worry about…Suzaku-kun."

The sudden addition of a suffix (_Japanese, no less_) startled Suzaku.  It must have shown on his face because Lelouch chuckled and slid his hand away from Suzaku's shoulder.

"Did I say it wrong?"

"No.  The pronunciation was impeccable.  As expected of Lamperouge-_sama_."

"Sama?"  Lelouch teased.  "My, such an elevation in status!  No wonder you're being so distant, jealous commoner."

And, for some reason, Suzaku could relax.  Maybe, maybe, maybe, it was okay to let his guard down because he knew that red, unnatural iris wasn't there.  He could convince himself that this was not archenemy Zero, that he honestly had not recognized Nannaly, that he could have his friend back, and he stepped a little closer.  He could smell his hair better now and yes, those _were_ raspberries.  Suzaku could allow himself to take advantage of this temptation of friendship and…and something else (_something more?_).  Maybe he had found Lelouch again in this blinding moonlight, holding out his soft, yellow dandelion to him.

_"Dearest Knight…"_

However…

He spared a glance at his pocket watch:  2 AM.  In four more hours, he would have to fulfill his contractual obligations as a Knight of the Rounds.

"I will be taking my leave now."

"Duty calls?"

"Yes.  Goodnight, Lelouch."

"Lelou."

"…Lelou?"

Lelouch waved his hand.  "Say it.  Call me Lelou."

"I thought you hated that nickname."

"Depending on how you say it, my opinion of the title may change."

How he said it?

"Oh.  Well, goodnight…Lelou."

The former heir to the crown smirked.  "What was that?  Have they replaced _Sir_ Suzaku with a robot?  I assure you, I was impressed by the mechanical deliverance."

"Hah.  _You're_ the actor, Lelouch."  Suzaku let himself smile although this admission made him re-think his new attitude toward his (_former or present?_) friend.

_Are you or aren't you…?_

"Lelou."

"I thought you weren't satisfied with my performa—"

"It isn't so much the way you say it that sways my favor," the boy cut across, "but that it was you who said it."

Lelouch (_No, it's Lelou, Lelou, dear Lelou_) smiled, said goodnight, and waltzed away, his body merging with the ink of evening and early morning.  He left no trace of himself, no hair, no scent, no touch.  And why should he?  Lelouch was one who blended and disappeared, replacing his existence with a beautiful, masked horseman.

"Me, Lelouch.  I'm here," he had said, eyes lowered, lips turned downward.

"Right now, you are," Suzaku murmured to no one in particular.

_But, Lelouch, you've disappeared before—just like summer._

_Are you or aren't you…?_

In his bedroom, Lelouch's grin slashed from his left ear to his right.

The seeds had been sown.

**Notes**:

Has Suzaku ever called Lelouch "Lelou"?  I don't think he has but I think the idea is cute.

I don't imagine that with the Britannian takeover, Area 11 would be speaking much Japanese anymore…which is why Suzaku would be surprised at the "–kun" thing, I'd imagine.

Ahhhh, feedback, plox?


	2. Watch

**Title:** God's Casket

**Pairing(s):** SuzakuxLelouch, LelouchxSuzaku, ZeroxSuzaku, etc.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Code Geass. But if I did, Lulu and Suzie would do it once every episode, I promise you this.

**Summary: **Zero, too, would do all in his power to not lose anyone else in this war.

**Warning: **Spoilery, what with it being set in R2, around episodes 3, 4, or 5.

This chapter contains boring OCs, politics and plot. Yes, this story _will_ have plot. NOW READ.

There are also some racial slurs in this one, so if you're sensitive to things like that…yeah.

**P.S.** NANI, MAI HUNNI?

**Chapter: **02—Watch

**_Three weeks ago..._**

Marquis Anatole Janvier was a man of great strength and status. He was renowned for his wisdom and patience, and nobles from every part of his nation commonly traveled to his palace in Touraine, seeking his advice.

You see, the revered marquis was unlike any other aristocrat: he was not saddled with the unnecessary sentiments of brutish man, like envy, cowardice, and fear. This was the reason why, instead of throttling one Sir Suzaku Kururagi, he drank calmly and delicately from his wine glass and conversed with Lord Schneizel. All the while he kept a close, but discreet, watch on his darling wife...and the amorous glances she let slip to that _Eleven_. Janvier felt ridiculous now, having had felt pity for the Japanese at the inception of the Britannian occupation. He was a man who stood relentlessly by his principles-- love and equality, for all races and nations and men, was just one of his standards.

However, the Britannians may have had a greater goal in mind than simple expansion. It very well could have been all to prevent these Japanese, these Elevens, from _stealing their women_. The notion was unthinkable when one first saw these people of the Orient, bending smoothly into their low, humble bows. Sooner or later, one was bound to realize they were incubi in flowing silks, wearing their masks of cinnamon flesh and curly, auburn hair, jades set in their eye sockets to charm wordlessly.

Just as this Japanese was doing to his Cerise.

Marquise Cerise Janvier laughed shyly behind her hand, as if the sound would offend, but it only made Kururagi smile warmly. The glass felt hot in the marquis' hand but he strove to ignore his wife's discussion and returned his attentions to Schneizel.

"...has returned, yes, but his absence led to the loss of much of his civilian support," the man said, swirling his wine. "There's also talk of fighting and uneasiness among his Black Knights. It's not at all surprising-- you can only follow a man who hides behind a mask for so long."

The marquis was also a grand actor, and so could flawlessly suppress his sneers. This Britannian idiot, this _imbécile_, could barely run his country and expected Janvier to believe he had everything under control? Puh. However, kindness was Anatole's curse, so he supposed he could assist...

"I'll be frank, _monsieur_," Shneizel said, lifting the crystal in his hands to the light to admire the workmanship. "I have come to you requesting...that France join us as allies."

"My dear Schneizel," chortled Janvier, sweating liberally as Cerise inched closer to that _damn boy_, "I am afraid that I have no say in the matter. If you were to request an audience with his Majesty--"

"He will not see me," Schneizel murmured, "so I have turned to his dearest friend to ask on my behalf."

The marquis watched as his wife's hand accidentally-on purpose slipped over Suzaku's hand as she made to pour the knight some wine. He cleared his throat, saying sternly to Schneizel, "I will not put pressure on my dearest friend just for the opportunity of bettering our economy through trade. Besides, does Britannia not have other allies to turn to...?"

"Ah, well..." the blond lord began, setting down his drink, "...it would seem that our...imperialism...has caused the withdrawal of support from previously allied nations. Not to mention,"- he cleared his throat and lowered his voice- "the SAZ incident."

Of course. The marquis nodded, remembering the link that a moment of curiosity had compelled him to click a few months back. His screen had filled with a comely woman in white, flecked with gore, gunning down crowds of screaming Elevens.

"Let's make a massacre out of it!" she had chirped only minutes before, toting a small handgun and a smile.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw, with some satisfaction, that Kururagi had gone slightly rigid.

_Fear, no doubt,_ Janvier thought. _This man isn't a _true_ soldier if he fears massacre._

"Terrible business!" he responded. "My condolences on the loss. Tell me, though," he asked, quietly, "was it madness?"

He did not see Suzaku's hands clench.

Shneizel shook his head. "Euphemia? That's inconceivable. No, no one knows what really happened. I don't believe we will ever know."

"Terrible," the marquis repeated. "Just terrible."

Both he and Shneizel jumped as a wine glass burst into fragments, like a needle to a balloon.

"Sir Suzaku!" cried Cerise, only too happy to snap up a napkin and wipe at the purple mark sprawled across the front of his uniform. "Please, let me get that for you!"

Suzaku shook his head, smiled faintly, and gently swept aside her hand. "It is fine, Marquise. These clothes are hard to stain. Could you direct me to the bathroom, however...?"

Cerise giddily took the hesitant and abruptly nervous Suzaku by the arm and swept past the two noblemen without so much a bow. Jaw tightening, Janvier turned his head to Schneizel who, along with the marquis, had been watching the scene.

"As I said," he sniffed, "I don't believe this ally idea will work out too well."

Schneizel bobbed his head courteously. "I see," he said silkily. He remained quiet for several minutes.

"What do you think of my knight?" he asked, suddenly.

Janvier furrowed his brows. "He seems...capable of being a part of your elite guard."

"Yes, he is very impressive," Schneizel agreed. "He _was_ the man responsible behind Zero's defeat. It is only natural that your beautiful wife seems taken with him."

The marquis grit his teeth. "Your Majesty, I have an appointment soon with another aristocrat. So, if you would please..."

"Ah, of course. I suppose I will just have to convince you another time," Schneizel aquiesced, drinking the rest of his wine.

Marquis Janvier straightened his back and coughed. "Wh-what?" he asked, a bit more gruffly than he meant to.

Schneizel simpered, standing up. "My dear Marquis, I can not take 'no' for a final answer. Though, I would suppose it would be discourteous to ask myself over to your wonderful home again. I insist you come to my palace, next time."

"Now, hold on!" Janvier snapped. "Hold on, I will not-- you will not--"

"As I said, Marquis, I can not take 'no' for a final answer. I need to do this, for my country. You understand if I am a bit rude."

Well, Janvier was blithering at this point, so Schneizel continued.

"Please, and take your lovely wife along. I am sure she will be more than thrilled to speak to Sir Suzaku again. He _does_ accompany me wherever I go, you see."

"Wait just a-- no!" he sputtered. "Have you seen her with him?!"

_Indeed I have,_ Shneizel mused silently. He only spared his companion an inquisitive look.

"If you do not wish for Madame Cerise to...ah...fawn over Sir Suzaku, then you do not have to bring her."

"No, no," Janvier muttered. "You do not know my wife. When she is enamored with something or someone, _she will get it_ _in the end_."

"Well, then, this is a problem," Schneizel said. "I wish to speak with you, but I can not fire Suzaku over this. He is very capable of his job, so there is no reason to do so. Besides, that is not within my power, anyway."

"Doing that will not fix the problem," Janvier said, tiredly. "She's an aristocrat. She has access to information networks, so she'll know where he lives, works and attends school. She will visit him, send him gifts and love letters...I can not deny her access to these networks at the risk of raising her choler. Ah, lord..."

The marquis rubbed at his temples and said naught for a time. "Lord Schneizel," he finally said slowly, "I will agree to your terms...on only one condition..."

When Schneizel looked into Marquis Anatole Janvier's eyes, he saw every terrible facet the man had tried to stamp out of his appearances-- covetousness, bloodlust, and rage-- and knew he had him in the palm of his hand.

"_Get rid of Sir Suzaku Kururagi_...by any means!"

"I'll see what I can do," Schneizel said somberly, knowing full well what he would do.

**(XxX)**

When Suzaku had rid himself of the marquise, he locked the bathroom door shut and slid down to the floor.

_"Was it madness?"_

Ah, Euphemia. The blood-matted princess was the reason why he was just so pendulous in reciprocating Lelouch's declarations of friendship. Now, mentioning her and what Zero had made her do...

Suzaku rubbed the cool water into his face. It would do his morale no good if he looked at that whole mess all over again. He had to concentrate on the future now because, in a sense, Zero was right and that was all in the past.

_Zero...why did you make her do such a thing...then kill her...?_

No matter how anyone looked at it, knowing as many details as Suzaku did, something had always been missing in that picture.

Or, perhaps he did not want to believe Lelouch had it in him to be so cold-blooded.

Suzaku dried his face and looked at himself in the mirror. He had moved past sordid, petty things like revenge. The past few months had helped him to heal and think, and it had strengthened his resolve. It was his duty, his obligation as a knight to protect the helpless. It was his duty to save everyone and anyone around him in need of saving. His duty, his duty, his duty to rescue and save the world and make all those bad, harmful people go away. It was a duty Suzaku had sentenced himself to when he had murdered his father, and it was a duty that had shaped him.

Something in the back of his head nagged at him that maybe he was just being selfish and that, again, Zero was correct. Selfish, selfish Suzaku just wanted death. What better way to further his morbid agenda than repeatedly, voluntarily putting himself in danger, armed with the defense that it was for a "noble cause"...?

It hit Suzaku just then how meaningless his existence would be without dangerous people like Zero, and he suddenly felt very queasy.

He returned to the parlor to find the marquis and marquise sitting side by side, smiling.

Both were beaming for very different reasons.

**(XxX) **

In the Avalon, away from Suzaku and irritating French aristocrats, Lord Shneizel Vi Britannia was afforded the chance to think. Certainly it was a stroke of simultaneous luck and genius that he was able to mold the outcome of this meeting in his favor. He had heard the rumours, but he had always thought the marquis' obstinacy was exaggerated, as was the level of his jealousy.

Of course the marquise would dote upon Suzaku in such a way. She was a ravishing young woman, with her long, pale neck, bright, brown eyes and blonde curls pulled back into a simple ponytail. Yet, she had been forced to marry a pompous, balding lord who was growing increasingly paranoid by the months in his old age. Every little flutter of her lashes directed at a man who wasn't the marquis would prompt fear of disloyalty.

The marquise wasn't such a woman. She was flirtatious and beautiful, yes, but she was steadfast and honest (a bit spoiled and snobbish, too, but that was a different matter altogether).

Schneizel had seen the opportunity and had seized upon it. The extraction of allies since the SAZ incident hadn't exactly hurt Britannia; nevertheless, there were the rumors of insurrections in the other Areas inspired by Zero. If all of them happened simultaneously, not even the Britannian army and navy would be able to devote their energies in all fronts and successfully beat back the rebels...after all, the number of bodies in all the Areas combined ran into the billions. And since France had a perfectly skilled military lying around doing practically nothing...

Not to mention all that land. Schneizel set his chin in his hand. Secretly negotiating for a share of French territory in exchange for advancing their feeble economy was a good idea. He had been rolling it in his head for a while: the establishment of a special division for capturing Zero. Zero certainly wouldn't expect a countermeasure headquarters in the nation Britannia supposedly had never held affections for nor (publicly) shown any affiliation towards: all the better that he had conducted this meeting in secret.

No, he would not announce the French as allies to the world just yet. But he would have to ensure that the marquise remained infatuated with Suzaku. Anatole had begrudgingly agreed to negotiate contracts and treaties over the next few months, so his dear Cerise would be seeing plenty of Kururagi.

The corner of Schneizel's mouth curled slightly, lips laden with acrimony. Sir Kururagi would undoubtedly prove himself to be a worthy and loyal soldier to the very end with this sacrifice. Truthfully, Schneizel would not have voluntarily picked Suzaku as his sacrificial lamb. He regarded him with boundless respect, branded as a traitor by his people, yet willing to fight for the greater good of his nation.

But if it was Sir Knight Suzaku Kururagi's head on a platter that Marquis Anatole Janvier desired, he could not deny his newly deigned ally his wish.

_For the greater good, Suzaku_, Schneizel thought, still somewhat unsettled. _You understand, right_?

So deep in thought was he, that he failed to heed one of his attendants placing an important fax on the arm of his chair, nor brush his wrist lightly as they removed something minuscule and metallic from his cuff.

**(XxX)**

_**Present**_**...**

Lelouch considered that manipulating his one and only best friend was on an excessive level of cruelty.

Then he recalled that he was doing this _for_ Suzaku and that his presumptive "friend" _sold him out to his father_ and all of his guilt dissipated.

It had been three days since his balcony rendezvous with the knight and he was satisfied with the results. Suzaku still kept his distance, but was outwardly more relaxed around him...

...Just barely. His hardened gazes concentrated on his back had lost their edges, softened by dubiety, but they were still there. He would stiffen less noticebly if Lelouch passed by him in the hall, but his jaw would still go rigid whenever they talked. It was certainly still an improvement.

He had also noticed the lack of the addressing him as "Lelou" but he had foreseen that. That was more Shirley's pet name than anything else, and although he loved the girl to death, he would have been much more satisfied if that name was issued forth from Suzaku's mouth.

Lelouch circled and paced the rooftop. Rollo had warned him not to venture near the Student Council President this morning. His darling "brother" was unable to go into the details as Lelou had spotted the blonde bouncing down the hallway that moment, and when Rollo mouthed "Run!" to him, he went with his gut and ran as fast as he could (which wasn't very fast in terms of the average student who engaged in exercise daily) to the roof.

A terrible fate awaited him, Lelouch knew. He repeated this in his mind as he was cornered by Milly, Rivalz and Shirley, as the latter two restrained him, and as Milly knocked him out with her book bag (filled with bricks or something, who knew with Milly?).

He repeated it again when he woke up, except out loud this time, as Milly jiggled something _horrible_ in his face.

"A terrible fate awaits me," he croaked, butt planted firmly on the floor.

She cackled, _cackled _and even threw back her head for added effect, fleering wildly and generously at him. "Lelouch," she said, waving the thing like some bloodied, ripped flag of war, "you really should have seen this coming. You've been missing our get-togethers for far too long now. So I said to myself, 'Milly'" -- she put her hands on her hips-- "'Milly, I think this Lelouch Lamperouge believes himself to be superior to us Ashford peons. So inferior, actually, that he deems it an offense to attend school with us like we were his equals.' And then when my father pleaded with me to 'inspire some humility in that boy,' well, that sealed the deal!"

Lelouch observed Suzaku and Rollo stroll in, their low mumbles morphing into loud greetings as soon as they saw him. "Uh huh."

Suzaku grinned uneasily. "Hey, Milly. What was this I heard about torturing Lelouch?"

His grin swiftly flexed backwards into an "o" as soon as he saw what was in Milly's hands, and red flooded his cheeks. Alas, to Lelouch's indignation, he started laughing, holding his stomach as if in pain. Rollo looked away, hand delicately covering his face to cover his own blush (ugh, and was that blood coming out of his nose? Creep...).

"I have decided, as your president, that you must be punished," she said, making the garments dance hypnotically. "You will don this all day for three days, starting this glorious Monday morning."

With that, Milly draped the Ashford Academy school girl uniform over Lelouch's head.

"No. No, no, no. No."

"If you complain, your punishment will be increased to _five days_."

"You can't make me do this. You can't. You won't."

"Yes, you are absolutely right, because you are a magnificent, impressive athlete. I surely was not able to knock you out and bring you here against your will, gods no."

"You...are evil! Think about my dignity!"

"Your punishment is now at five days due to your whining. Want me to extend it to two full weeks?"

The boy groaned and briefly contemplated graveling at Milly's feet for forgiveness. Lelouch looked pleadingly to Rivalz, Suzaku, Shirley, Rollo and to Suzaku and was met with diverted stares. He sighed, finally, bowing his head. "Is there anything I can do to lighten my penalty?"

Milly put a finger to her lips, eyes rolled to the ceiling, an embellished pose of meditation. "Yes," she answered after sundry eons.

She dug something encased in plastic out of her handbag and presented it to the boy on the floor.

Lelouch had seen the depravity of mankind and war. He had seen his comrades laying slew upon countless battlegrounds. He had had his little sister kidnapped and threatened with death. He had seen his own mother dead and bloodied, shielding Nunnally with her corpse. He had unyieldingly shot his own half brother and sister. He had watched it all play out, completely anodynic in form throughout the trauma and tragedy that was his warring life.

By gods, none of that mattered a tick now that he was facing this new, ghastly horror dangling colorfully in front of him. No experience in battle could ever steel himself against this.

"I'll make your punishment last only three days," Milly said, "if you wear the panties along with it."

The giggles that circled around him were like nails hammering into his eardrum and heart.

"I think you would look excellent in the crown-patterned ones."

**(XxX) **

_3 days later…_

Lelouch was momentarily alarmed when he did not find Rollo slumbering in his bed.

Momentarily, because when steel smashed the side of his head, he thought, _Oh, I told them to surprise me, didn't I?_

Authenticity came at a price.

Sprawled upon his bedroom floor and stars spinning about the ceiling, Lelouch squinted at the blurry (four or five?) faces floating over him. They were all unrecognizable, save for the loyal Karen Stadtfeld. Her glare was glazed with concern as she snapped to her subordinate, "Careful! We need him alive! Bludgeon him again with your gun and I will _pull the trigger_!"

Good. She had picked the most violent of Black Knight newbies wielding an assortment of firearms. Lelouch made an effort to remember their faces so that he could relieve them of their duties later. He didn't need these adolescents tainting the Order's image.

"Stand down, Akiyama!" she barked at the youth, who looked about to argue with her. "Unless you have forgotten, _I_ am your superior."

_Your voice could use a little less panic, Karen_, Lelouch critiqued.

"Lelouch Lamperouge," Karen stated, straightening herself, "we are temporarily taking you as our hostage. If you behave yourself, you will be returned to your dorm...eventually."

The unrecognized leader of the Black Knights made sure to squirm and put a tremor in his voice. "Wh-what are you all up to? I thought the Black Knights fought for justice!"

A young woman with black, shoulder length hair stomped forward. "We _are_ for justice!" she sneered. "What do you know of justice, snobby, filthy, rich little Brit?"

"And what would some _Eleven_ terrorists know of justice?" Lelouch shot back.

The revolutionaries clamped tightly onto their guns. They did not move, only glowered.

_This isn't doing anything. I didn't want to have to resort to this, but..._

"I'm sorry," Lelouch goaded, "that wasn't very politically correct, was it? You prefer your former title, don't you..._Jap_?"

They didn't like that. Even Karen blanched.

"Fucking _Feb_!" screamed the girl. She pounced, straddling his torso as she slugged his stomach ferociously. Lelouch struggled against her and found that, even if he wanted to, he could not throw her off. Soon, Lelouch was crawling with three Black Knights members fully enjoying their initiation with much biting, kicking, and punching.

It hurt. Very much so.

"Himura! Akiyama!" Karen shrilled. "Matsushita! Stop that! I order you to-- hey!"

Matsushita whipped out a knife and pressed it to Lelouch's throat, his thighs already choking him with an iron grip. Lelouch sighted the madness in his brown eyes and thrashed.

"Let's strip him," he breathed, the blade nestled by the boy's Adam's apple. "Strip him and have some fun. See how he likes everything he has being taken away."

Lelouch's eyes went so wide and round like perfect circles, he almost felt them pop out of his skull.

Authenticity had its price.

**(XxX)**

**Boring Notes YAWN:**

1. HOSHIT I rushed this chapter because I was so grateful to all those who reviewed...but mostly because Sunrise put me in a good mood and I felt the need to gloat. HA HA. HA HA HA HA HA HA. I feel extensive gratitude, my reviewers, because due to a Japanese TV Guide spoiling us in a week in advance, I have discovered that:

_SPOILERS_--hirleysayiesday--_END SPOILERS_

Hell. Yes.

So, in honor of that lurvely spoiler, I have rushed this chapter.

;-; GOODNIGHT BORING PRINCE(SS).

2. Cliffhanger, lol. Didn't have much SuzaLulu but I'll make it up to you guys. I had to get this plot going. GJ, Lelouch. Didn't see this coming, huh? NOT AS PLANNED.

3. I'll post an Omake chapter in a couple of days showing how Lelouch's three days of punishment panned out. It shall be delectable, I tells you.

4. _Feb_ stands for Filthy (or Fucking) English Bastard, according to the Racial Slur Database at www dot rsdb dot org. More wonderful slurs to come!

5. Thanks to Inuryu for pointing out my mistake! Fix'd!

Have any problems or praise? Please review, then! Criticism is welcome!


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